Friday, September 2, 2011
i bet you hope that it's great and I'm going strong, red girl, orange days, yellow luck and hair slides, kidding around, girlfriends, cheerleader teeth and showers together talking about bras, periods, chocolate and boys... jumping to the beat and space dust... come on teeny girls, you go out and take facebook pictures, fakebook laughing virgin dressed as whore puppets ,with your boast machines and cocktail smiles... but don't be fooled... this is and this is not a love song, when i go quiet, i am not ok, i'm plotting. and if you dared to tell yourself that I've forgotten... you'd be wrong. cuts tears in duvet days, no callers, stay away, shield yourself from more of mr.p, feel so different... no grin no sundaes no hairdos no makeup puffy, but puffy ugly eyes, i can hear you, selfish fuckers, spit in your coffee, i need my mother, lock the door to scratch myself and screaming into a cashmere coat dad used to wear that he gave to me, can't bear to know what i know, and if i share it then it must be true and i won't have that... have to go down to get a sandwich hide i'm starving...will I see them, go down silently god... heart beats brown brown brown i hate brown i wrote a whole poem about it but hated it cos i hate brown i didn't want to include it ...your just about beating heart brown like beethoven, thump my eyes out and god he's coming up from the garden, spit in is coffee, you'll get yours mate, why should i make him coffee all he made was me is unhappy and scared for life, piss on his tooth brush doesn't help either, only, just so lonely i want my mother where is she, i've gotta smile at Christmas my favourite blessed grandma time, and where's my mother lovely tree and lovely curtains make it for me lovely presents lovely lovely lovely, are we all happy put a little bowl of crisps for him which he will eat so barbarically the walls tremor, I know what I want for Christmas, things before he moved in and I was more or less moved out and, are we all happy, brown again I hate that colour, a threshold of gross abnormality, are we all happy, is everyone happy, gifts at birthdays make it go, and tea and cocoa, where's she gone now, yes we're all happy just to stop the asking, who are we all? there are three in this house and if we're all happy then i don't count cos i'm not and you'll get yours mate, and I watch the same shows to shut noise out no i won't see them no, my friends won't come if i tell them i am busy, but i can't see them i can't cos i feel more isolated when i see happy people, are we all happy, damn you fucker, yes we are all flowers and ivor novello wallpaper, fake book family pics, where's my mother, down the garden, is he alright, would he like a piece of battenburg with a cup of sugary tea? can I whip down and back up and not bump into friends at all it's like an open bloody house here, i can't stand to do my suffering, my hospitals, my operations in public like a show pony, you made me do it, utter humiliation, can't get her alone, not ever not ever, are we all happy, smile it's easter making simnel and whisk some up so I can sense my own personal jesus risen again, and there were no mobile phones around then, please listen to me, please listen to me, cant you see my innocence is flying away, I hear my brother sneering when I speak now, every word he is there, every word becomes a visit from mr p, wheres my mother, you'll get yours mate, imagine the rest, you'll get yours I won't forget cos i'm the one, i am the one, and you'll get yours mate, and i'm getting my dues and its worth the wait when you get happy in a square or circular kind of way and... oh. Gosh. now you've got yours, i don't spit in your coffee, i look after you cos my mother comes to me now wants me there, i bet she does, and we all pity you, cos you can't remember what i'll never forget and as I take your coffee to you I see you cos what was brown is pink and pumping full of gratitude and low self esteem, well, right, i'd give my eye to help my mother, where's my mother here with me knocking on my door to listen to her at night, she knows she's pretty sorry i guess, she is my mother, anything she wants, anything, anything, i'll take her burden, pity you and love her more and you got yours didnt you, i knew it, i spoke to mr p. you know, when i bring you your coffee now, i bring you a macaroon with it.
Posted by genie at 5:59 PM